


How Much For A Dozen And You?

by SS98



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Awkward Harry, Awkward Louis, Baker Louis, Bottom Louis, First Kiss, Happy Ending, Jealousy, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nothing dark, Photographer Harry, Pining Harry, Pining Louis, Plot twist?, Shy Harry, Shy Louis, Top Harry, True Love, University Student Harry, University Student Louis, Unrequited Love, Virgin Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-18 00:35:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10605612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SS98/pseuds/SS98
Summary: Harry parts his lips with words at the tip of his tongue. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his coat and fights with himself mentally on what to say next. “Do you…- Do you like Italian food?”“I haven’t really eaten much of it.” Louis admits, clearing his throat. “W-Why do you ask?”The question seems to catch Harry off-guard even though he opened up this path of conversation. In addition, everyone seated around them seems drawn to their awkward communication; even the ladies who conduct the actual baking in the kitchen are peeking through a slot in the wall.“Well, would you be open to being convinced?” Harry asks, wincing when he clumsily steps around the table and ends up kicking it an inch to the left.Or, Louis works in a bakery and Harry doesn't. They fall in love through a series of awkward events.





	

_“I'm going out tonight, I'm feelin' alright_ _. Gonna let it all hang out.”_ Louis sings along to one of Shania Twain’s hits with his flimsy plastic gloves on and an apron knotted at two sections at his back.

It’s a few minutes past seven in the morning and even their regular patrons of _Aunt Ellie’s Bakery and Café_ have yet to awaken from their beds. Louis loves the morning shift when all the hype there is would be a call to sweet Betty who is well past her due date for her firstborn. He comes in at six and sweeps the store with a broom that has his name scrawled on the handle after the last cleaner broke it and he purchased the glue needed to men the item.

There’s never anyone to pop in and reprimand Louis for switching the chairs around so they didn’t match the tables, or giving four free raisin cookies to the triplets and their Norwegian friend every morning. Aunt Ellie is his grandmother’s sister and Louis hadn’t known that up until he landed a job here six months ago to pay his way through a correspondence course of teaching English. His closest friends reckoned he could earn a bundle more if he took out some shorts and started a stripper career but Louis shuddered at the thought.

He could never swing around a pole without breaking his leg or possibly someone’s in the audience. Louis is a procrastinating, laid-back, menial labour worker in this quaint little town just outside of the urban populous. There’s not a thing he regrets about his shoebox apartment or pet pigeon that lives on his terrace.

Louis would also be lying to himself if he said Earl from down the street was the highlight of his morning shift. He loved all his regulars and knew their orders well enough to be worried when they changed, but the lad with a stained university sweatshirt and wild green eyes happened to make his day more often than not.

His name is Harry Styles and he came into Louis’ bakery after an early morning jog made him ravenous suspiciously for a pasty. He made Louis laugh that first day with his breathless manner of speech and borderline stuttering. No one can blame him when someone as unearthly as Louis stood before him with a baby blue apron and soft matching eyes. Harry’s certain he would have crumbled to the ground had he not been gripping the counter with every ounce of strength left in him.

_“Hi.” Harry congratulated himself on that syllable._

_The creature across the counter from him is ethereal. It’s not the light striking the side of his face to illuminate his slightly flushed, delicate features or the slight concern etched into his brow. His nametag reads ‘Louis’. Louis’ eyes are the most unique shade of cerulean blue that no gem in the world could be half as precious. He’s smiling and it makes the faint scattering of freckles across his nose that much more prominent._

_“Hi.” Louis greets in return. He’s visibly blushing and Harry already feels victorious. “Looking for something specific?”_

_“No.” Harry feels himself shaking his head. “Anything you recommend?”_

_Louis hums in thought, turning to the door that must lead to the kitchen. “Some of our famous almond biscotti and chocolate marshmallow brownies are about to come out of the oven.”_

_“Yeah, um- that sounds wonderful.” Harry manages a smile to not look utterly psychotic as he stares unblinkingly at the lovely boy._

_“Great.” Louis grins delightedly and comes around the counter, undoubtedly hearing how Harry’s heart beats like a train engine barrelling through his torso. He ushers the man over to a chair close to where his station is by the till. “Sit tight for five minutes and I’ll bring it over when they’re ready.”_

_“Perfect. Y- um…- That’s perfect. Thank you.” Harry internally curses at himself for not enlisting a fraction of the charm that’s made him the most famous Styles family member._

_Louis stalls beside him for a moment, crossing one foot over the other. “How many would you like anyway?”_

_“Huh?” Harry blinks stupidly up at his companion. “Oh. Just…- Just one. Each, thank you.”_

_“You sure, Curly?” Louis quirks his eyebrow at the man. “Won’t your friends be offended if you bring home treats just for yourself?”_

_Somehow and some way, Harry’s confidence resurfaces. He cannot look away from Louis’ mesmerising eyes when he speaks. “How do I know you’re merely trying to sell more pastries?”_

_“Didn’t your mother ever teach you about desserts, Harry? Not everything is a pastry.” Louis giggles, walking off in the direction of his prior post. For whatever reason, Harry thinks that’s the sexiest notion he’s ever witnessed._

Louis has worked every morning shift since meeting Harry two weeks ago. They enjoyed each other’s company enough for Harry to spend twelve pounds each time purchasing some dessert and a tea with no milk or sugar, pretending that whatever lay on the screen of his phone was sufficient distraction from staring at the bubbly boy behind the counter. Sometimes Louis would take a break and they’d talk about Harry’s fancy photography degree in the making or how Louis burnt the mini lemon meringue tarts.

The most endearing story Harry’s ever heard happens to be the one in which Louis spent two hours searching for a neon yellow balloon in the baby forest beyond this town’s borders. His niece had cried when she lost it and Louis could not stand her devastation so he went on a one-man hunt. In return, Harry told Louis about the time he was hired for a shoot in the city and upon arrival discovered it was for a less than family-friendly production. Louis laughed so hard at the still prevalent horror on Harry’s face that milk came out of his nose.

Louis hoped each time Harry came in that it would be the day he got asked to more than a meeting by the brightest window. He was not disappointed however even if Harry never requested a date because the other’s company each morning is an excellent reminder that any relationship with someone so humble is worthwhile.

One day Harry brought Louis a cherry lollipop just because he thought the boy might like candy and for an entire two-hour shift he got to punish himself for allowing something so harmless to become obscene when Louis had it in his mouth. Nothing about the boy is explicit or forward in a manner that aroused many; he didn’t try to be anything close to seductive. Louis just had that irrevocable effect on Harry and vice versa.

This morning, Louis turned the radio’s volume down a bit and emptied trays of macaroons into the display case before doing the same with the Swiss rolls and an assortment of biscuits. He spoke to the women doing the actual baking behind closed doors for a few minutes before Earl walked in with his newspaper and winter coat. Louis went to bring him his herbal tea and scones when the door swung open again to let Harry in.

Harry appeared to have been mangled by the heavy winds outside. His trenchcoat was poised still because of its weight but his hair is disarrayed and tangled dreadfully across his face. Harry waits for the door to close before resetting his scarf and meeting Louis’ eye, albeit with mild embarrassment. He goes to the seat in the corner – the only neon pink chair that Louis does not reorganise – and manages to fit his lean, fit build into its cradle.

“Looking quite snazzy there, Louis.” Earl whips Louis back to Earth from his reverie with his comment.

Louis pries his gaze away from Harry, heat creeping onto his cheeks. “What makes you say that, Earl?”

The old man in a French toupee and plaid sport’s jacket gives a throaty chuckle. “You are never dress so fancily for us, old boy.”

“I’ll keep that in mind when I meet Lucy again.” Louis winks at the man before walking away, skirting around tables to reach Harry at a pace that doesn’t look hurried but is anyway. “Hi.”

Harry was staring at the black screen of his dead phone with a studious frown, tapping his foot almost impatiently. When Louis spoke he was shocked out of this trance so terribly that his phone fell with a clatter to the floor and he hit his knee on the underside of the table. _“Shit.”_

“Sorry!” Louis gasped, retrieving the unharmed device for Harry and setting it on the table. “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, no. Not your fault.” Harry tucks his phone into his pocket and uses a band from around his wrist to tie back his hair in a bun. He smiled but it was brief, not reaching his eyes.

Louis found this odd. “Something bothering you, Curly?”

Harry peers up at him in silence for a heartbeat before tearing his eyes away from Louis’ startled expression. “Yeah. Got a blind date this afternoon.”

Something in Louis withers and of course he tries impossibly hard to not let it show. Moments after his smile dies he brings it back half as enthusiastic. “Oh. Not bringing ‘em here, are you?”

“No.” Harry frowned at his hands. “Why? I mean, besides the fact that a bakery isn’t the conventional first date destination.”

“Um.” Louis opens and recloses his mouth several times, his appearance akin to a deer caught in headlights when Harry is looking to him expectantly. “Well that was the reason I had.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure.” Louis forces his smile to broaden. “Want me to bring your usual?”

“Maybe just the tea this time please.” Harry cracks his knuckles incessantly until Louis begins to feel himself wince at the awful sound.

“Sure.” Louis turns on his heel and then allows a flood of plagued emotions to drag his features into the mask of devastation.

“Louis?”

He spins back around with a velocity that surprises him and triggers a faint dizzy spell. “Yeah?”

Hope does not disintegrate as quickly as Louis’ faulty balance. His eyes widen at Harry getting up from his chair so abruptly that the object scrapes obnoxiously against the bakery’s tile. It’s so deafening that Louis has to glance at the chair legs to ascertain when the sound will end. There used to be a notepad and pen in the pocket of his apron that he’s unknowingly clutching to his chest now.

Harry parts his lips with words at the tip of his tongue. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his coat and fights with himself mentally on what to say next. “Do you…- Do you like Italian food?”

“I haven’t really eaten much of it.” Louis admits, clearing his throat. “W-Why do you ask?”

The question seems to catch Harry off-guard even though he opened up this path of conversation. In addition, everyone seated around them seems drawn to their awkward communication; even the ladies who conduct the actual baking in the kitchen are peeking through a slot in the wall.

“Well, would you be open to being convinced?” Harry asks, wincing when he clumsily steps around the table and ends up kicking it an inch to the left.

Louis rakes his hand through his hair which sends his maroon beanie on a journey to the ground; he grabs it by the white pom-pom at its peak to stuff in the crook of his arm. “I would, yeah. But what about your date thing tonight?”

A frown crosses Harry’s features; he clearly forgot about his commitment until Louis pointed it out. “I didn’t actually agree to go.”

“Oh?”

“My best friend roped me into it.” Harry’s brows knit together, pained. “I told him I’d decide and let him know by five.”

“Oh okay.” Louis nods understandingly, swallowing thickly. “Great.”

“How about tonight? For the Italian food intervention, I mean.” Harry proposes, combing his fingers through his hair for the third time.

“Sure.” Louis decides to end some of their catastrophic uneasiness and steps closer to Harry, still securing his hat and notepad to his abdomen when he gets on his tiptoes to peck Harry’s cheek. “Is eight o’clock okay?”

“Perfect. You’re perfect.” Harry breathes, the words from his first day coming through with Louis’ lips against his jaw.

Louis laughs, withdrawing to scribble something on a page in his notepad. He squashes the piece of paper into a ball and presses it into the clammy palm of Harry’s hand. “See you later, Harry.”

*    *    *    *    *

Their first date goes so well that both Harry and Louis consent to dragging out the night until they’re falling asleep on one another. Harry takes Louis to the finest Italian restaurant he can manage a reservation for, and shows up on Louis’ front door with a bouquet of flowers in which a sunflower is the focal point. They take just over two hours to eat amidst their modest but honest conversation before dessert arrives and Louis waves his hand dismissively at Harry’s knock-knock joke so he can indulge in a triple chocolate cheesecake.

After leaving the restaurant they walk across the street to the public park where an ancient swing awaits. Harry prefers to sit uncertainly on one of the creaking wooden panels but Louis displays no fear of falling even when the chain keeping him grounded starts to quiver. To cap off he night, Harry ends his suffering to have his kiss.

He waits for the conclusion of his own story about an experience at his god-daughter’s daycare to be void of his audible nervousness. They pause outside Louis’ apartment building and Harry knows he must look like an alarmed fool but that quickly flies out the window when his darling companion rocks up on his tiptoes like earlier in the day. Their lips meet and Harry finds himself leaning forward continually to never depart with the feel of Louis’ soft lips moving against his.

Louis reaches up to clasp either side of Harry’s face before he pulls away with an unsuppressable grin that mirrors Harry’s. “Does this mean you’re going to stop visiting me every morning?”

“God no.” Harry rasps, flexing his fingers on Louis’ hips. He rests his forehead on Louis’ and allows his eyes slip shut momentarily. “This means I’m going to visit you even earlier to account for the time needed to kiss you.”

With a giggle, Louis pecks Harry’s lips once more. “Can’t wait for that to start.”

*    *    *    *    *

Harry and Louis have been dating for two weeks and true to the former’s word, they still spent time together every morning. On a fateful Friday, Harry was offered the job to shoot for a nature magazine and convinced Louis to go camping with him. They took two tents for the heck of it but ended up actually using just one because they both had strict rules about cuddling.

What changed is that every morning Harry brought Louis a type of candy that would inevitably turn the boy’s mouth a strange colour. He appreciated the added oddity to their kisses when Louis’ lips tasted like grape or citrus. In exchange for the uncountable courtesies, Louis cooked dinner in his apartment for their unnumbered date during which a game of Monopoly ended with Louis in Harry’s lap and their mouths connected in a feverish union.

They’ve both dated before but Louis never slept with someone because none of his partners made him feel secure enough to let them have his most treasured intimacy. Harry did not want that doubt and regret to lace their budding relationship so after only umpteen reassurances did he let Louis take him into his bedroom. Their first time was explosive and on the upper half of extraordinary. Louis made the right noises in the most genuine way that a lover can and Harry responded to each one with vehemence.

Louis slept in as small a ball he could curl into and Harry found that to encircle the petite other’s frame was most relaxing. Breakfast consisted of Louis perched on his lap and a plate of poorly distributed scrambled eggs nor could Harry reach his tea in time before Louis snatched the mug up and sauntered off in the direction of the bathroom.

When Harry gets his highest paying job taking photographs for a magazine, he brings Louis along and offers his chair up to the boy while he works. Louis pretends to understand every technical term Harry uses when describing the roll of images to him and concentrates most on not deleting anything from his boyfriend’s Macbook when he’s surfing the internet.

Models are graceful and flawless when they’re in front of the camera but Louis also discovers that most of them are humble off-screen as well. He chats with them when they’re communing at the snack table but he’s opting out of their celery treats to rather have cheap, packaged miniature cakes. Harry is a vision when he’s working and occasionally pausing to take a bite of whatever Louis’ eating. He switches between cameras and ditches a tripod in favour of getting the ideal angles himself.

When they’re delayed because a particular model got stuck in traffic, Harry sits on the floor with his endless devices and skims through the photographs he took earlier. Louis props his chin on the man’s shoulder from where he’s slumped against him, pouting until Harry notices and kisses him to silence any internal complaints. Getting asked for his opinion on the shots makes Louis panic because his criteria for what looks pretty is not strict in the slightest. He is shocked to hear the magazine editor’s shortlist that chops down Harry’s photos to three in each of the six categories.

The model arrives and Louis goes on an adventure through the hair and make-up department. He returns after being cornered by all the friends he made in those areas with his face done up and a clip-on earring. Louis waits for Harry to finish up his conversation with the model and his camera before showing off his new look. His boyfriend has something close to cardiac arrest when he sees Louis with jewellery and make-up.

Harry drops his Kodak on the table before coming to inspect Louis’ new appearance. It amuses him to see his boy so smug with this change and kisses Louis to feel something smeared across them. Louis is beautiful without a thing to enhance his features and Harry asks him first if this pleases him because his is the only opinion that matters. Louis shrugs and tells him it feels funny on his skin and he misses his freckles as much as Harry does.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what this is. I don't know what I've done. The end is near.


End file.
